Liam's Revenge

Chapter 8 - The Warning

My head almost snaps around, eyes narrowing as I search for the source, but then I know better.

I decide to steal a glance in a rear view mirror instead.

Rigena still sits behind me, seemingly looking through the window, but something is off. Her posture is different.

When I realize what's going on, heat invades both my treacherous cheeks and my neckline.

Oh. My. God.

Her body is angled slightly towards Patrick, and his fingers are no longer drumming a nervous rhythm against the seat.

Instead, they're pressed against her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt.

Oh wow. Patrick's hand.

It rests brazenly on Rigena's thigh, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the exposed skin.

She lets out another soft moan, her lower lip bitten between her teeth. Her eyes are closed, a dreamy expression on her face. It's clear she's enjoying his touch immensely, as she pulls her legs further apart, inviting him to advance further.

I feel like a voyeur, inappropriately intruding on this intimate scene. His calloused right palm disappears fully between her thighs, and I can see Ri grinding her hips up and down on it in a sensual, circular motion.

Patrick's head is now leaning on Ri's shoulder. He first licks and sucks on her earlobe before descending to miraculously feast on her neck, his fingers never stopping their merciless rhythm between her legs.

My own fingers brush against Liam's arm, as I stretch for the radio knob to slightly turn up the volume.

If I keep hearing them like that, I'm gonna go crazy.

I wet my lips with my tongue, sensing my very much erect nipples push against the flimsy fabric of my summer dress.

Heat and wetness are pooling between my legs before I know it, and there seems to be nothing I can do to control it.

The song helps a bit to muffle the sound of Ri's unabashed, hungry pleasure, but then there is the matter of the visual, too.

I force myself to look away from the rearview mirror, my gaze landing back on Liam, but that is so not helping.

As I stare at his perfect raven locks, his five o'clock stubble and the tense muscles bulging against the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, I can't stop myself from thinking how delectable he is.

From remembering our first date from years ago – a picnic at Malahide beach.

The precious, romantic moment when he gifted me a restored photo of my grandparents.

And that wild, rough sex we had in the car on our way back to Dublin.

Liam's long, limber fingers are white-knuckled around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched even tighter than before.

Does he see what's happening back there? Can he hear them?

He must.

Against my will, my eyes wander between his legs, and my doubts are swiftly confirmed.

I am greeted with the sight of his enormous bulge straining against his pants.

The air in the car crackles with a strange tension, a silent battle of sensuality, chemistry and emotions playing out between the four of us.

I call Enzo's image to my mind to combat what I am feeling right now.

To fight this urge to grab Liam's cock and teasingly rub up and down his shaft, torturing him as he drives on. As he tries to control his primal instincts.